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hair, a sound like a heel on sand, and looked at him. " Willie
Proudfit's hair," she said, and smiled. "Willie was a little
towhead when he was a young 'un."

"A towhead," Willie Proudfit said, "but my nose ne'er
drooped and run."

"Hit do look lak young 'un's noses droop and run more
these days," she conceded.

"The Indians," Willie Proudfit said, "they named me a
name in their way of talken."

His wife ran the fingers of her free hand over his hair.
" I'm gonna keep on a-callen you Willie," she declared.

"Hit means Man-with-hair-white-like-wind-on-water," he
said. " They give it to me fer a name. Me being a towhead,"

"Towhead," she repeated, and ran her fingers through his
hair, petting him. She treated him like a child, sometimes,
Mr. Munn noticed, with a toying and patronizing tenderness.
But she was probably twenty-five years younger than he was,
or more. She was girlish-looking and slightly made, except
for a fulness of her high breasts, over which the calico of her
dress stretched almost tightly. Certainly, she was not yet
thirty, and seemed younger except at those times when she
fell into long silences, her black eyes, even as she moved
about her tasks, seeming withdrawn from the objects about
her. It was as though she had absorbed something of the
gravity and aloofness of her husband, like a precocious child
who is usually with adults or is much alone. She was an
energetic woman, and competent with her hands, which
seemed to know their occupations so well that when she sank
into one of her fits of abstraction they could proceed as
though they possessed a life and a way of their own. But
now and then, when she was working out in her little garden
patch, Mr. Munn, from his place up by the spring on the
bluffside, had seen her pause and lean on her hoe, not for a
minute or two, but for a long time, looking off down the
valley. At first he had thought it was because she was tired,
but when suppertime came she moved as briskly as in the
morning and was as ready with her smile. Once he had